


It Only Takes a Moment

by Kanarek13, missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: When a new weapons demonstration goes terribly wrong, Harry has a revelation about his feelings for Eggsy. But when he confesses the truth, Eggsy's reaction isn't quite what he expected. And suddenly it doesn't look like there's going to be happy ever after for them after all.





	It Only Takes a Moment

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to the lovely and talented [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13) for their wonderful art! It's been great fun to collaborate on this fic.
> 
> You can see the art [here on Tumblr](https://kanarek13.tumblr.com/post/185869164892/artwork-i-created-for-the-kingsman-reverse-big). Please don't forget to leave your artist feedback!

Most men his age, Harry is well aware, are not so great with new technology. They need their children, or heaven forbid their grandchildren, to show them how to work the latest shiny new gadget, explain the current slang, download that popular new app. He is thankful to exclude himself from that category. He's always been fond of new tech; had things gone differently during his Kingsman training he might have ended up at the tech branch in Germany. Instead he had proven to have an aptitude for killing, and his course had been set.

Still, he's always pleased when Berlin announces they have something new to share. Given the results, he doesn't even mind the administrative headache of bringing everyone who can be spared in from the field and setting up a demonstration. It's always worth it in the end. And this demonstration promises to be even more fun than usual, because it's the first one he will attend with Eggsy.

"Didn't they even tell you what it is?" Eggsy complains. He's asked it several times, in several different ways. Always looking for an angle, is Eggsy. Annoyed that he and the other agents are left in the dark until the big reveal, he's been trying to get the secret out of Harry ever since he learned that Amelia was coming to London. "I mean, you _are_ Arthur now and all."

"Yes, we've established that," Harry says dryly. He hates being Arthur, hates that his time in the field is limited now due to his duties and the persistent headache that lingers from that June day in Kentucky. He's also tired of Eggsy trying to get him to slip up and reveal the secret. As it so happens, he _does_ know what Berlin has in store for them. Of course he does. And he has no intention whatsoever of giving it away.

Privately, he's glad for the new item coming their way. In this day and age, most places have banned smoking; it's getting harder to justify a reason for an agent to carry around the golden lighter. So Berlin has come up with a brilliant solution to the problem. It's not something Harry had ever considered before, but once he read the abstract summarizing the new tech, he had wholeheartedly approved.

"So I just think it's weird you wouldn't know ahead of time," Eggsy say with a far-too-innocent widening of his eyes. Harry tries to frown and fails; he knows perfectly well where Eggsy picked up that particular little trick.

It's still early, and it's dark out yet. They're at the breakfast table, which is something Harry is still adjusting to. Before Eggsy, he never used to eat breakfast at home. A single cup of coffee had been all he needed until he got to the shop. Chester King had a notorious sweet tooth, and there had always been some kind of pastry lying around, something that would tide Harry over until lunch.

But Eggsy is different. Eggsy likes puttering around in the kitchen. Eggsy likes having a sit-down breakfast before they leave, even though it means they have to get up earlier in order to have enough time to cook and eat. Most mornings it's not much more than eggs and sausages, but on Sunday Eggsy makes a full English breakfast, and then they eat at their leisure.

Harry would rather have his nails torn out with hot pincers than admit it, but he thoroughly enjoys breakfast with Eggsy. All those sausages make it that much harder to maintain a trim figure, but he doesn't mind. A little more time spent in the gym is worth these precious hours he gets to spend with Eggsy.

As always, though, he keeps his focus. And today of all days, he will not be swayed by Eggsy's charm. "I suggest you think about their request for any new items you would like to see," he says. "Amelia has specifically asked what you would like to have with you in the field. You won't get this kind of chance very often."

Eggsy drains his coffee and sets the mug down. "I guess," he says. He doesn't sound all that interested; he knows exactly what Harry is doing. And the truth is that he could just email Amelia any time he thinks of something he wants the tech branch to look into. He won't be so easily distracted from trying to guess the secret behind the upcoming demonstration. Harry suspects he's made a bet with Roxy that he can get Harry to reveal it to him, given the nature of their relationship these days.

He has to admit, knowing that there is a wager involved makes him all the more determined not to give in.

He stands up. "We had better get ready."

Eggsy shakes his head – but he's smiling. "You do know the only time you're ever on time for something is when you want to use it as a distraction, right?"

"Of course I do," Harry says a bit tartly. He heads for the kitchen, holding his empty plate in one hand and his coffee mug in the other. "I'm surprised it took you this long to realise it."

"Oh, I had it figured out the first week we met," Eggsy says with a laugh.

Harry doesn't respond. With his back to Eggsy, he knows Eggsy can't see his answering smile, but that's fine. He also knows that _Eggsy_ knows he's smiling.

****

They gather in one of the classrooms, where only a year ago Eggsy sat and took exams with his fellow potential Kingsman recruits. Harry missed most of that time, being stuck in a rather embarrassing coma, but he has heard plenty about it from both Merlin and Eggsy himself.

Only Bors couldn't make it today, being deep undercover in Austria at the moment. The demonstration is being recorded though, and he will receive the video within an hour of its being finished, ready and waiting for him to watch at a time convenient to him. The video will also be pored over by techs located here in London too, as they study this latest weapon in a Kingsman's arsenal.

Amelia stands at the head of the room, ready to give the presentation. She's never happier than when she gets to do this, showing off the latest marvel to come from her side of the agency, and today she is all smiles. As he walks toward his seat, Harry nods and smiles back. He has his own suspicions of why she is so happy – and most of them have to do with Lancelot sitting so primly in the second row. Not that he is bothered by it. He's always believed that it doesn't matter who one sleeps with, as long as one's performance at work remains unaffected. It's a philosophy he's made sure to apply to Eggsy and himself, as well. Fair is only fair, after all.

"Shall we get started?" Amelia says, and the quiet murmur of conversation dies down. All eyes are on her.

"As you are all aware, it is illegal to smoke in a public building in both the EU and the UK." Amelia stands at ease, completely unafraid of speaking in front of a group. She makes brief eye contact with them all, pulling each person into her sphere of influence. She is very good at what she does.

"Therefore, we have decided to retire the Golden Lighter."

A low murmur goes around the room. From his position in the front row, Harry can't see the agents' faces, but the sound of their reaction is one of surprise. Beside him, Eggsy nods a little, his eyes intent on Amelia.

"Instead," Amelia says, "all agents will now be given this." She reaches into her pocket and holds up a key fob.

It looks just like a normal key fob for a normal car. One car key. One silver keyring. One black fob with four buttons on it. But Harry, who has seen the schematics, knows it is anything _but_ normal.

Amelia holds up the fob. "In principle it works just like the lighter. The open lock button primes the grenade. The default setting is the smoke and flash bomb. Press the lock button to activate the fireball grenade. Pressing the panic button activates the countdown, which is set for 10 seconds. Should you decide you don't need it after all, the open lock button will reset the entire thing and make the fob safe again."

She looks around at them all. "Any questions?"

Roxy raises her hand. "Does the key actually work?"

"Yes," Amelia says. "It's designed to fit any Kingsman cab. Though you will still need your fingerprint ID to unlock the vehicle. But the key means you can drive any one of them, anywhere."

"It also," adds Merlin, "sends an alert back to HQ letting us know that someone is driving one of the cabs." He gives a couple of the agents a rather stern look, ending with Eggsy. "And of course GPS will give us your location."

Eggsy seems completely unperturbed by Merlin's glare. "Nice," he says under his breath. 

Harry glances at him and is absurdly pleased by this sign of approval. As though he had anything to do with the new grenade except to approve it when the plans came across his desk.

Still, he can't help but be glad. He truly enjoys seeing Eggsy made happy over something, whether it's a request to move into that white house with him in Stanhope Mews, or something small like this. Whatever makes Eggsy's eyes light up makes Harry happy, too. It's really that simple.

Amelia pockets the key fob. "Now if you would all come with me," she says. A wicked gleam enters her eyes; she exchanges a glance with Lancelot. "I think it's time for a little demonstration."

Eggsy is the first one out of his chair. "You gotta let me try that," he breathes.

Amelia smiles. "You'll all get the chance," she promises.

They file out of the classroom, Amelia in the lead. Harry notices the energy level of the group has risen considerably. Not that he is surprised. For all their etiquette and manners, Kingsman agents always look forward to the chance to blow something up.

A safe place has been set up outdoors, behind the large manor house. There are no chairs set out here. Two fire extinguishers lay in the grass, and the sideways K has been chalked on a patch of bare ground not far away.

"Now," Amelia says. They stand before her in a loose semicircle, giving everyone a good view of the target area. "Today's demonstration is twofold. First we will see the flash bang." She smiles archly, enjoying her little power trip; she knows this isn't the thing most of them are here to see. "Then we'll do a little damage."

There is some laughter in the group. Percival and Lamorak exchange a glance. Eggsy grins.

Amelia holds up the key fob. "Arthur? Would you care to do the honors?"

Harry is surprised – but only at first. He continually forgets his new role at Kingsman; it took him weeks to respond to being called Arthur, mostly because he simply didn't associate the name with himself. It's hard to let go of Galahad, hard to know someone else bears the name he carried for over thirty years. It helps that the mantle has fallen to Eggsy, but even then he can't deny that he resents the change forced on him.

He takes a step forward. He has to admit, he would like to give the grenade a try. As Arthur it's his right to go out into the field any time he chooses. He could assign any mission to himself that he wants. He could carry the key fob with him starting tomorrow, with every expectation of using it.

Instead he turns to Eggsy. "Why don't we let Galahad give it a try?"

A low groan runs through the agents. Lancelot smirks a little as she and Amelia share a look. Harry has a distinct feeling that money will be changing hands between the two of them sometime later today.

Eggsy steps forward, alight with anticipation. "Don't worry," he says with a wink. "I got this."

Harry follows him. "I will, however, watch the demonstration," he says. And that easily, he gives up his chance at using the new grenade himself. It's a small concession, designed to speed things along so the agents get their chance that much faster.

Lancelot's smirk widens into a proper smile. Merlin, standing off to the side with his clipboard/tablet, glowers with enough force to dent a brick wall. Harry returns the look with his own wide-eyed innocent expression – but he knows perfectly well that after today's fun, the two of them will have yet another conversation about playing favourites.

Not that Harry needs the reminder, thank you very much. He is well aware of how easily it could be perceived that he favours Eggsy over the other Kingsmen. Their relationship is not a secret, after all. More than once he has reluctantly denied Eggsy a mission or some other request merely because he didn't want anyone to accuse him of playing favourites.

What no one else knows is the exact nature of that relationship. No one else knows the deep contentment Harry feels from waking up with Eggsy in his bed every morning. Only he knows the amazing, profoundly moving experience that is living with Eggsy Unwin, having his trust, sharing his deepest thoughts.

He has never been happier in all his life. And that is something no one else needs to know.

Amelia hands Eggsy the key fob. She doesn't bother to repeat her directions on how to use it. A Kingsman should only need instruction once.

Eggsy turns the fob over. "Feels just like a normal one," he says. He looks up, a bit flushed. "I mean, it ain't heavier or anything."

Amelia nods. "That took some fine tuning, let me just tell you." She seems pleased that Eggsy noticed this small detail.

"Okay then," Eggsy says. He grins up at Harry. "Ready?"

Harry nods. He stands at Eggsy's right shoulder with his hands locked behind his back. Close enough to see what Eggsy does with the fob. Close enough to breathe in the scent of him and privately delight in it.

Eggsy presses the open lock button, priming the grenade. There is no sound, and Harry wonders briefly what would happen if he used the fob around a row of cars. Would they all unlock at the same time? How universal is this thing?

"Here we go," Eggsy says. He hits the panic button.

The default countdown is ten seconds. More than enough time to throw the fob into the designated target area while standing back at a prudent distance. The flash bang isn't nearly as violent as the fireball, but it's still plenty powerful in its own right.

Eggsy cocks his arm to throw the key fob, and it blows up right in his hand.

The sound is deafening. Bright light obliterates everything. Harry is thrown back, spun around, buffeted violently on his way to being dashed to the ground.

He lands hard, all his senses cut off. He can't see anything, hear anything, feel anything.

Training comes to his rescue. Move. He has to keep moving. Anything could be happening beyond the veil drawn over his senses. Anyone could be approaching.

_Move!_

Painfully he rolls over. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. He gets one arm beneath him, trying to rise.

And he sees, blurry but inevitable, Eggsy lying on the ground.

A wave of cold washes over him. He still can't hear anything, but he knows he makes a sound because he can feel the pull on his throat. He can't see anything beyond the too-still figure of Eggsy Unwin.

Last night they stood in the laundry room folding socks. Eggsy had laughed and said he never knew how good it could be to be so boring. Harry had pretended to take offence and vowed to show him what boring really was. Eggsy had still been laughing when Harry captured his mouth in a kiss.

Sometime after midnight he had woken up to find Eggsy snuggled up against him. Eggsy's hand had been flopped on his pillow, less than an inch from his nose. Eggsy's foot was shoved between his ankles. Harry had just wriggled a little bit closer and fallen back asleep.

This morning Eggsy had said they mustn't forget to call the vet and schedule JB's annual checkup. Harry had nodded and said yes and Eggsy had put the leash down on the counter, and JB had run into the kitchen to slurp enthusiastically from his water bowl and Eggy had laughed.

Just half an hour ago Eggsy had put his hand on Harry's back as they rode the elevator together up to the classroom and Harry had smiled a little to himself and gently rocked backward on his heels to push himself into that warm touch and thought of all the things they would do tonight when they were alone at home in the bed that hasn't once felt too big and cold since Eggsy moved in.

And now Eggsy is dead. 

And Harry, oh God, Harry never got to tell him.

Because the terrible truth, the thing he never even realised, never understood until now, is that he loves Eggsy. He loves Eggsy with every cell in his body, every nerve and fiber of his being. He loves Eggsy enough to have come back from the dead for him, to give up his name and his job and embrace an uncertain future. He loves Eggsy enough to open his home, his arms, his heart.

And he never said anything.

He never told Eggsy.

And now he never will.

The ringing in his ears might be voices. Harry doesn't hear them. There could be movement in his peripheral vision. Harry doesn't see it. All that matters is Eggsy.

He begins pulling himself along the ground. Eggsy lies before him, so still and unmoving. Even his chest barely rises as he breathes in.

Harry freezes.

Motion resolves itself. Hands touch him. From a great distance he hears his name.

And Eggsy lies there, breathing in and out.

Harry drops his head, resting his forehead on the ground. He can't hear the sob that tears through him, but he can feel it.

****

Eggsy has a broken wrist and a dislocated thumb. He has a concussion and a hopefully temporary case of tinnitus. He has a smile for his visitors and a sullen glare for the medical staff.

He is most definitely not dead.

Harry sits in his office, having returned here as soon as it was safe for him to do so. He is aware on one level that he shouldn't be. After all, all the cliches in every movie says that currently he should be sitting at Eggsy's bedside for hours in silent, worried vigil, waiting for the right moment to declare the truth of his newly-discovered feelings.

In point of fact, he wants nothing to do with that. Nothing at all.

The plain truth, the thing he cannot hide from himself no matter how much he might want to, is that he is scared. He's scared of the depth of his feelings for Eggsy. He's scared that Eggsy might not feel the same way. He's scared that he might truly never get the chance to say anything, and equally scared that he will be presented with the perfect opportunity for it – and that he'll blow it, completely and utterly.

He had been there earlier, of course. He accompanied the staff as they carried Eggsy to the infirmary. He stood there watching, lurking in corners, getting in the way, earning a few dark looks from the doctor. He asked questions and demanded answers.

And when Eggsy regained consciousness, disoriented and in pain but perfectly alert, Harry had still been there.

But he hadn't stayed. He had made some excuse and left as soon as he could. By then he had needed it desperately, yearning for the claustrophobic confines of the office that only this morning he had detested.

The specs for the new key fob grenade are on the screen in front of him. A cold cup of tea sits by the keyboard. Half a dozen files await his stamp of approval, tentative plans sent up by the data analysts, needing only his nod to be turned into genuine missions. Harry sees none of it. He cares about none of it.

"I'd ask if you have a moment, but I don't think that's the problem."

He looks up, startled by the voice – and more than a little aggrieved that he didn't hear anyone entering his office. "What do you want?"

"I should think that's obvious." Merlin walks in and seats himself without asking. Harry stares at him, the stare of someone used to getting their own way, especially now that they've been forced into a position of authority they never wanted in the first place.

"Why are you here?" he tries.

As always, Merlin gets right to the point. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry. Not Arthur. For that, Harry forgives him for walking in here like this. Forgives him for everything. "I am perfectly fine," he lies. "I was only stunned by the blast. Not hurt."

Merlin gazes at him blandly. "That wasn't what I was asking, and I think you know it."

Of course it wasn't. And of course he knows that. But it's too dangerous to answer Merlin's real question. He doesn't trust himself to find the right words, much less speak them out loud.

"I am quite all right," he says. "I don't know why I wouldn't be."

Wisely, Merlin does not answer this. Instead the sneaky bastard changes tactics. "Does Eggsy know you're up here?"

"Of course he does," Harry says tartly. As though he would leave Eggsy alone right now without an explanation. He gestures at his laptop, and the image of the key fob grenade on the screen. "I told him I would make sure this never happened again."

Merlin nods. "You do know that thing lifts off the desk, right? You could work on it anywhere."

Harry sits up straight. He tolerates a lot from his old friend, but Merlin is rapidly approaching a line he better not cross. "Eggsy himself told me that he has no desire to go home," he says. "I'm sure you could watch the conversation yourself on that grubby thing you always carry around."

As usual Merlin takes no offense; on the outside his tablet might not look like much, but it's always the first thing to be upgraded when any new tech comes their way. He does stand up, though, ready to leave. He turns to go, then hesitates as though he's just thought of something, and turns back.

It's all a pose, of course. Merlin knows exactly what he's doing.

"You do know why Eggsy said that, don't you?"

Harry rises to his feet, the better to look Merlin in the eye. "Because he's not hurt that badly." It's a relief to actually say it out loud. To make it real.

"No," Merlin says. "Well, yes. But." A bemused smile crosses his face. "Harry, I've never seen anyone care so much what someone thinks about them, as Eggsy does about you. He knew you wanted to look at the grenade specs, so he told you he felt fine, that he would just hang out here all day. He told you he didn't need to go home and rest, even though you were both there when the doctor said he should do just that. But he's fine. Perfectly fine, in fact."

Harry doesn't wince to hear his own words thrown back in his face, but it's a near thing. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Merlin says gently, "that for a man of your intelligence, you can be remarkably obtuse sometimes." His fingertips pat the arm of the chair where he was just sitting, then he turns around and walks away.

Harry watches him go, stunned speechless.

****

Eggsy isn't in the infirmary anymore. He's not in the dining room or the armory. He isn't in any of the training rooms, and none of the cameras on the grounds pick up his presence.

Harry calmly walks through the halls of the great Kingsman manor and tells himself he is not going to panic, he is not.

After Merlin left his office, he had sat back down and just stared at the grenade specs sent up from Berlin. He stared until they blurred into meaningless data, esoteric symbols and signs he could no longer comprehend. He was too busy parsing this startling new information Merlin had given him.

Eggsy loves him back.

It's the only explanation. The only thing that makes sense. Eggsy loves him with at least the same fierce passion that Harry has only just realised beats within his own heart. It makes him wonder how long Eggsy has harboured these feelings, and if he ever planned to say anything about it. Or does Eggsy even know the truth? Is he as ignorant as Harry himself was until this morning? If so, what would it take to make him find out?

But of course the _real_ question is what he intends to do with this newfound knowledge.

Harry is a spy. When it comes to everyone else in the world, it's his job to be as flexible as possible with that sticky thing called the truth. But for himself? No, that is quite different. It's always been vital that he be honest with himself. A spy who deludes himself into thinking his cover isn't blown, his target isn't aware that he's being shadowed, his mission isn't a complete clusterfuck, well, that spy is a soon-to-be very dead spy.

And the problem now is a simple one. If he is going to be honest, if he is going to accept just how much he loves Eggsy, then he needs to do something about it.

He needs to tell Eggsy.

But first he needs to _find_ Eggsy, which is proving to be harder than Harry expected. So at last he stops walking the halls like a fool and pulls out his mobile.

 _I'm finished with the specs,_ he texts. _Where are you?_

He waits, holding his phone, counting the seconds until he sees the reassuring three dots that mean Eggsy is texting back.

 _Library,_ is the answer. _Thought I'd get a head start on that Madrid mission._

It's not at all certain that Eggsy will be the one chosen for the Madrid mission, especially now that he's been injured, but Harry lets that go. For now he's just relieved to have found Eggsy. In a manner of speaking.

 _I'll be right there,_ he texts.

He puts his phone away and walks briskly down the hall. He doesn't particularly like the way his heart is suddenly beating faster, or the way his skin prickles all over at the thought of getting to be near Eggsy again soon. 

Has it always been this way? Just how long has he been ignoring the signs? Some spy he is. He can't even pick up on his own tells.

The library is enormous, and not much used anymore these days. The quiet click of laptop keyboards has replaced the silent study of old books and newspapers. Harry can remember sitting in here beneath a yellow-hued ancient reading lamp, perusing scans of Russian newspapers on microfiche, squinting at the headlines that always seemed blurred out of focus just enough to give him a headache after a few minutes.

Now though the library is brighter and more open. Many of the claustrophobic bookshelves have been removed, the books they once contained now available in digital format. A data analyst sits at a wooden table, frowning at something on her laptop, a cup of tea in front of her. Besides Eggsy, she is the only other person in here.

Eggsy is at the table nearest the door. He's slumped in the leather chair, his phone on the table in front of him. They haven't put his arm in a cast; instead a black splint covers his thumb and the base of his hand, extending up to the middle of his forearm. He'll be wearing it for the next six to eight weeks, news he had taken with a deep scowl.

He looks tired, Harry notes. Tired, and in pain. Either he hasn't taken the meds the doctor gave him, or else they are wearing off. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

Eggsy shrugs carefully, using only his left shoulder. "Fine."

He would say that even if he was bleeding out. Harry nods. "Ready to go home?"

For half a second Eggsy's face lights up. Then it's gone, his expression carefully masked. "Yeah? I thought you was gonna work on that grenade."

"I can do that anywhere," Harry says, echoing what Merlin had told him. "Besides, you need to rest."

"Can do that anywhere," Eggsy mutters, but he stands up anyway.

Harry leads the way out of the library. Already he's laying plans, how they will take the train to the shop, then a Kingsman cab back home. He'll make some dinner, something quick and light, while Eggsy rests on the couch, JB gazing soulfully at him from the floor. Then after dinner…

Well. Sometimes it's best not to plan things in too much detail. 

****

It's just as well that he didn't make any concrete plans, Harry thinks later that evening. If he had, Eggsy would have ruined every single one of them.

For starters, Eggsy had refused to lie down and rest. Not even on the couch. "Nothing wrong with me," he had said stubbornly. For most of the journey back to the house he had been quiet, and once Harry had caught him almost nodding off on the bullet train, but now he's wide awake and obstinate as ever.

He had insisted on helping out with dinner, even though his options with only one working hand are pretty limited. In exasperation Harry had finally announced that he was calling for takeaway, because he wasn't in the mood to cook, and Eggsy could bloody well deal with it. Far from being annoyed, though, Eggsy had just shrugged and said okay. Which made sense. He had won, from his perspective. He might not be able to help in the kitchen, but since there was nothing to actually help with, he hadn't lost, either.

Dinner was simple, just some chips and sandwiches, food that could be eaten with one hand. Eggsy only ate half his meal, but said that he was saving it for lunch tomorrow, since he guessed it would take him longer in the morning to get ready, so he might as well save time by having a lunch already prepared.

Harry had just nodded and said that was good thinking. He still has some slim hopes of convincing Eggsy to stay home and rest tomorrow, even though he knows there's really not much chance of that.

There's still an hour to go until their normal bedtime, but Eggsy is clearly starting to give in to his exhaustion; he's not even pretending to be playing that annoying game on his phone anymore. He's just staring blankly at the screen, holding it loosely in his left hand, his right arm propped on a pillow beside him.

Harry thinks about bed and cosy lie-ins and thick woollen blankets and how tired he is (but really isn't) – until the inevitable happens: he yawns.

"I think I'm going to head upstairs," he says.

Eggsy blinks and looks up. He looks halfway asleep already. "Probably not a bad idea," he says. 

"How's the ringing in your ears?" Harry asks.

"Almost gone, yeah," Eggsy says, brightening a little.

That's a very good thing, and Harry smiles. "Glad to hear it."

Eggsy rolls his eyes a little, but he grins. "Ha ha."

He hadn't actually meant to make a bad pun, but Harry is pleased that he did. He's even more pleased by Eggsy's reaction. "I've always had a way with words," he says primly.

Eggsy laughs a little as he stands up. "Okay here's something I never thought I'd say. Let's go to bed. And not in that way."

Harry is horrified at even the thought. Eggsy is hurt. Sex is completely out of the question tonight. And tomorrow night. And for as long as Eggsy deems it wise to abstain, so he doesn't aggravate his injuries.

But as soon as Eggsy says it's safe… Well, Harry freely admits he's rather looking forward to that day.

****

In the morning he makes them breakfast.

It's a dreary day out, and the mood in the house isn't much better. Neither one of them got much sleep, thanks to Eggsy squirming about constantly trying to find a way to lie that was comfortable for his hand and arm. Harry is yawning for real now, and he isn't the only one.

He sets their plates down and then takes his seat. No toast this morning; it would be impossible for Eggsy to butter his toast and Harry isn't about to embarrass him by offering to do it for him. So breakfast is just eggs and sausages today, easy foods that can be eaten with a fork held in one's off hand.

Not that either of them eat much. Eggsy is hurting, and Harry is too nervous about what he's going to say as soon as breakfast is over.

He has a few lines rehearsed already. He can't help himself. Spontaneity is all well and good, but he doesn't dare go into this blindly. He can't make a fool out of himself. He has to make Eggsy believe that he's sincere, that he isn't just saying this because of what happened yesterday. While it's certainly true that the botched demonstration had something to do with it, that was only the catalyst, not the cause. He's loved Eggsy long before realising it yesterday.

He manages to wait until the dishes are cleared away and only their teacups remain on the table. Eggsy is in a white dress shirt that he buttoned one-handed. No tie. No jacket. There's a dark bruise on one cheek where he hit the ground when he fell. There's also a tiny patch of stubble that he missed when he was shaving, and Harry wants very badly to kiss it and feel the rasp of hair along his lips.

The thought makes him shiver. And that gets Eggsy's attention. "You okay?" He looks like he's trying to decide if he should be worried.

"I'm fine," Harry says. He smiles. "I actually wanted to talk with you about something."

Eggsy's expression goes blank. His chin tilts, his head coming up. He does these things unconsciously, bracing himself for a fight.

"I'm not going to scold you," Harry says. "What happened certainly wasn't your fault. And there is nothing either one of us could say or do that might prevent it from happening again. It was an accident, nothing more."

Eggsy relaxes. "Yeah, but I bet you're still gonna tear Berlin a new one."

"Of course I am," Harry says with the merest hint of a smile.

Eggsy flashes him a grin. "So what's up?"

Abruptly Harry wishes he had waited. It feels wrong to have such a serious conversation at the dining room table. They should be on the couch, sitting close together. Not in here with a cup of tea at his hand and the lingering smell of sausage in the air.

Then again, why shouldn't it be here? He has fond memories of this room and this table. He and Eggsy sat here the morning after the train test, and he had taught Eggsy the proper etiquette for a large, fancy meal. That had been after the first night Eggsy ever spent in this house. In a separate bed, of course, but still. He had slept here and Harry had lain awake for hours in the room down the hall, burning with the temptation to do something he wouldn't regret at all that night – but might very much regret later.

So all right then. Yes. Why not here? 

He looks at Eggsy and he says, "I realised something yesterday."

Instantly Eggsy is more wary, but it's not like before. "Yeah?"

"When I looked up and first saw you lying there," Harry says, "I thought you were dead."

Eggsy looks taken aback. Then a second later he is stricken. "Oh fuck, Harry. I'm sorry."

He has absolutely nothing to apologise for, but that is beside the point. "It was not a moment I would care to relive," Harry says dryly. "But all the same, I'm glad I had it."

Now Eggsy seems baffled. "Why?"

"Because it made me realise something," Harry says. He is surprised by how even his voice sounds, revealing nothing of the jagged beating of his heart. He's even more amazed that he's still sitting down, when he actually feels like he's flying, soaring high above everything normal and mundane.

"It made me realise how much I love you," he says.

Eggsy's eyes grow very wide. His lips part. Colour rushes into his cheeks, then just as swiftly drains away, leaving him white as a ghost.

He does not speak.

This isn't quite the reaction Harry had hoped for, so he forges on. Ignoring the faint alarm ringing in the back of his head, telling him that something has gone wrong, that he needs to abort the mission and return to safety now, now, right now.

"I don't know when I fell in love with you," he says, "and that is unforgivable. But far worse is not letting you know, once I did realise it." He smiles hopefully. "I love you, Eggsy Unwin. You have made my life complete in ways I didn't even know I was missing, until I met you."

None of that really makes sense, but Harry is past caring. He has to say this. He has to let Eggsy know the truth. "You've made me happier than I've ever been in my entire life. And I hope that you are happy here, too. I hope that we can always be together like this."

At last he stops, because Eggsy looks like he's half a second away from fainting, and Harry can hardly hear himself anymore anyway, because of the pounding in his chest. So he stops, and he watches Eggsy, and he waits.

Eggsy seems to try out several responses. At last he says, "Oh." He stares at Harry, his throat working. He is still paper white, his eyes far too large for his face. "Thanks."

The word hangs in the air between them, too heavy to bear its own weight. It sinks rapidly out of sight.

So does Harry's heart.

So that's it then. Now he knows the real truth. It tastes far more bitter than he ever dreamed, and that too is one of his many, terrible mistakes.

"Yes," he says. "Well. I just thought you should know."

Eggsy looks away. Some of his colour is returning, but he is still too pale. He breathes in quickly, almost shivering, the line of his jaw tight with all the words he obviously isn't letting himself say.

It's too much. Harry stands up. Even that simple motion is almost beyond him; he feels leaden all over. As heavy as his heart, in fact. "I'll be off then," he says. He's grateful to hear that he sounds perfectly normal, with none of that sharp bitterness in his voice. Or worse, that so obviously fake tone of hearty cheerfulness.

Eggsy nods. He still can't look at Harry. "Okay."

"You will not be," Harry says. It isn't a question. "You need to rest and recover."

"Yeah," Eggsy says faintly. He offers no trace of an argument, and that's when Harry gives up completely. If Eggsy can't even be bothered to argue with him, there is no hope for them at all.

He leaves without another word.

****

It’s a very long day.

Harry has lived in London for his entire adult life. He's grown so accustomed to the city and its weather that he scarcely pays it any attention anymore. But today the grey drizzle seems a tangible symbol of his broken heart. He could hate himself for such a melodramatic thought, except that he's too depressed to care.

He goes through the motions of his day, staying at the shop so he won't have to come into contact with Merlin. He fires off a scathing email to Berlin about their abysmal failure with the key fob grenade. Amelia stops by to see him on her way to Heathrow, and he is so nasty to her that she leaves with tears in her eyes; he half-expects her resignation by the end of the day. He signs off on three missions he hasn't even bothered to read about, assigning agents at whim with no thought to what they might want or what is best for Kingsman.

On a normal day he would text Eggsy at least three times, checking on him, asking if he was feeling any better. He would receive Eggsy's _I'm fine_ answers and know that while it was indeed probably true, it was also something he wouldn't know for sure until he got home and was able to see Eggsy himself.

Today he doesn't even consider it. Except for when he _is_ considering it, agonising over what he could say that wouldn't seem pathetic, like an old man begging for scraps of attention from someone much younger than him, someone who is perhaps packing up their belongings at this very moment, preparing to move out and put an end to this charade.

He doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to open the door and find that Eggsy is gone. But at the same time he has to know. Being a spy means having all the information. It means staying on top of the situation. He can't do anything just sitting here moping about.

At two o'clock he gives in. He heads downstairs, tells Andrew at the desk that he is leaving, and steps out into the drizzle. Part of him wants to just walk home, to arrive wet and bedraggled and maybe elicit Eggsy's pity and therefor make him stay. But his dignity balks at this, so he gets into the first cab available and tells the driver to take him to Stanhope Mews.

Whatever happens, Harry tells himself, he mustn't get upset. He mustn't.

He unlocks the door and goes inside – and immediately freezes, the door still open behind him. Eggsy is just coming down the stairs, one arm in a sling, the other holding his Kingsman glasses. He's changed into jeans but he's still wearing the button-down, no doubt because he can't wrangle his splinted arm into a T-shirt just yet. By the look on his face, he was obviously expecting Harry.

It's like déjà vu, like that awful day last summer, just before Kentucky. Only this time it's Harry walking in to face judgment. 

Slowly he closes the door. "I came home early," he says, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Eggsy says. "I know. I had Andrew text me when you left."

Harry blinks in surprise. He turns toward the living room, and then he stops.

There is a new flower arrangement on the coffee table. The seascape he admired in the shop window a few months ago rests on the couch, propped up against the back cushion, angled right where he will see it when he walks in. And in the background, playing softly, is his favourite album.

Bewildered, Harry turns to Eggsy. "What is all this?"

Eggsy finally steps off the stairs. "It's for you."

Harry shakes his head, not understanding. This is a far cry from the packed suitcases he expected to see when he walked in. He has no clue what to make of it all.

"Why don't we…?" Eggsy gestures toward the living room.

Harry lets himself be led over to the couch. He sits down beside the painting. He touches the gilt frame with one fingertip, then lowers his hand, not sure if he's allowed. It had only been an offhand comment at the time, he and Eggsy peering in the shop window as they walked leisurely through a sunny autumn afternoon. He had thought it would look nice in their bedroom, and Eggsy had agreed. Then they had walked on and Harry had forgotten all about it.

Eggsy stands in front of him. "See here's the thing, Harry."

Harry braces himself. He knows what this is now. It's Eggsy's way of letting him down gently. He would rather not listen to it at all, but it's clear Eggsy went to a lot of trouble to put it all together, which means he owes Eggsy the chance to make his obviously rehearsed speech. 

Eggsy lifts his chin. He's always been so brave, even when people like his stepfather and mean-spirited Kingsman potentials told him otherwise. "I fell in love with you that first morning, in the Black Prince."

It's a proper grammatical sentence, but the words make no sense. They can't be real. A faint buzzing starts in the back of his head as Harry stares and stares.

"Only I couldn't ever say anything, could I?" Eggsy says. "Cause I was just a recruit and I didn't want to let you down, or make you think I was only doing this cause of you, when really all I wanted was to be a Kingsman for me. And my family." He swallows hard. "And then we had that row and you went off to Kentucky and I thought you died, and Harry, that just about fucking killed _me_ , too. I didn't know what I was gonna do with myself then."

He isn't the only one. They don't ever really talk about those days last summer, when everyone thought he was dead, including Harry himself for a terrible time. But he had survived Valentine's bullet and been reunited with Kingsman, and life had gone on, the way it always did.

"Then we found out you was alive," Eggsy says. "And you asked me to stay here living with you, and I said yes. And these last few months, Harry, they been like some kind of dream. Only you gotta wake up sometime, don't you? So I just been waiting for you to say something. For you to end it. I guess I figured you'd say this had been nice and all but it's gotta stop cause I'm your boss now. Or cause you got sick of me. Or cause you wanted somebody older and more mature, someone who understands all those posh things you like." He shrugs, but it's clear that he is feeling anything but casual just now.

"I don't know. You name the excuse and I thought of it. So when you said what you said this morning, it's just… I didn't know what to say. I was too shocked. I didn't think it could be real. And I'm sorry. I know I acted like a complete dickhead. I guess I was just trying to keep from busting into tears like some kind of pussy, like Dean always said I was." He grimaces. "I know that ain't an excuse, but it's the only one I got."

Eggsy takes a deep breath and looks him right in the eye. "I love you, Harry Hart. I have for ages. And if you still love me too, then I guess that makes me the luckiest guy in the world."

Through the roaring in his eyes, Harry understands only one thing. Eggsy loves him. Eggsy has always loved him.

He stands up. He's a bit wobbly on his feet, but he figures that's okay. His entire world was just rocked to its foundation. How can he _not_ be unsteady after that?

"Do I still love you?" he asks. He steps forward, closing the distance between them. "Just you try and stop me."

He leans down to kiss Eggsy, and Eggsy rises onto his toes to kiss him back, and it's the greatest kiss they have ever shared. He wraps his arms around Eggsy and Eggsy's free hand clutches at his suit jacket. He breathes in the scent that is uniquely Eggsy, revels in the warmth of Eggsy's lips.

Eggsy makes a sound in the back of his throat and leans in closer, pressing his body against Harry's. They sway together. Back up a step. Harry kisses the corner of Eggsy's mouth, the place where his cheek creases when he laughs, and finally, finally, that little patch of hair he missed while shaving. The rasp of stubble on Harry's lips makes him shiver with delight.

"What was that?" Eggsy says breathlessly. He's still got a fistful of bespoke suit jacket.

"That was me," Harry says. "Loving you."

"Oh," Eggsy says. He smiles then, his entire face lighting up.

"Thank you for the painting," Harry says. "Though you didn't have to go to such lengths."

"It was supposed to be for Christmas," Eggsy says. "But I just wanted to show you that I really meant it, that I wasn't just…"

"I know," Harry says, and kisses him again.

Eggsy kind of melts against him, holding his splinted arm awkwardly off to one side so it doesn't get in the way. He fits so perfectly against Harry, his head just the right height to rest on his shoulder. "So we good?"

"Yes," Harry says. He smiles into Eggsy's hair. "We are very good."

"Yeah," Eggsy says. He nestles in a little bit closer. "We are, aren't we?"

 

*******

_it only takes a moment_  
_to be loved, a whole life long_


End file.
